


Mornings Are for Coffee and Contemplation

by Bk_Betty



Series: Tumblr Ficlet Challenge [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Because Bucky Hates Everyone When He Hasn't Had Coffee, But Somehow Steve Thinks That's Hot, Coffee Shops, First Meetings, M/M, Maybe More of a Meet Ugly, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 06:39:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13698951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bk_Betty/pseuds/Bk_Betty
Summary: Where Bucky is a sleep deprived writer in desperate need of coffee and Steve is the cheerful barista at Brooklyn's most pretentiously hipster coffee shop. Who knew murder face, an annoying toddler and possible plans for a killing spree could lead to love?





	Mornings Are for Coffee and Contemplation

**Author's Note:**

> This is my second installment for the Tumblr Ficlet challenge started by [Bear_shark](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bear_shark/pseuds/Bear_shark) and [Parrannnah](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Parrannnah/pseuds/Parrannnah). 
> 
> The story is based on a visit to my neighborhood coffee shop this morning. I am not a morning person and I’m particularly cranky when I run out of coffee. It is not a pretty sight. 
> 
> The name of the coffee shop has been changed because I don’t want to piss off the closest source of my favorite coffee beans. Also, my sincerest apologies to any James Taylor fans. 
> 
> **Prompt** : “Should I be concerned about how much caffeine you’re taking in?”

Bucky opens the door to Robin’s Nest Coffee Shop, quite possibly the most pretentious coffee shop in Brooklyn (and that, my friends, is saying something). He tries very hard to avoid this overly cheerful combination of reclaimed wood, aggressive colors and shitty music choices but desperate times call for desperate measures. He was up all night making the changes Natasha demanded to his newest manuscript and he cannot face the day without coffee. Unfortunately, when Bucky shuffled into his kitchen this morning, he found his cupboards bereft of his favorite coffee beans (also known as the essential building blocks of his existence). And this abomination masquerading as a coffee shop is the closest place that sells them. 

Bucky takes a deep breath, preparing for human interaction. The line is five people deep, which isn’t too bad by Brooklyn standards. But Bucky in the morning without coffee is an ugly, ugly thing. He is impatient and is seriously contemplating murdering everyone standing between him and his coffee beans. He can see them behind the counter, taunting him with their clever label design. So close and yet so far away. He gets in line behind a woman decked from head to toe in Lululemon and carrying a yoga mat. Upon closer inspection, Bucky notices the yoga mat is decorated with bunches of kale. 

“Because of course it is,” he grumbles under his breath. Sometimes Bucky really hates living in Brooklyn. 

It is prime Mommy and Me and Trophy Wife coffee shop time, otherwise known as Bucky’s idea of Hell. Rummaging around his pockets, he realizes he forgot his headphones at home. Which means he is forced to hear every single thing floating around him as he waits in line. This includes the toddler in the corner banging against a table and singing off-key. His mother is too busy laughing with her fellow Stepford Mom to stop Damien from being an asshole. Bucky feels the urge to stab growing. 

He is two people away from the front of the line and knows he needs a quick hit of caffeine before facing the walk home. He looks at the menu above the massive shoulders of the big, smiling blonde manning the register. The guy looks like he was created in a lab somewhere. Normally Bucky would be delighted to have such eye candy while he waits his turn. In his current state, however, he can’t deal with people of any level of hotness. Besides, James Taylor is playing over the cafe’s speakers (what patchouli wearing motherfucker is in charge of their playlist) and big, dumb blonde is humming along to it. That knocks his hotness down at least four pegs. 

After a few moments of deliberation, Bucky decides on a double flat white. When he lived in New Zealand, he could order a double flat white and they knew what he meant. Asking for the same thing in Brooklyn only confuses baristas, so he normally orders two flat whites. Sure he gets strange looks, but the baristas invariably shrug their shoulders and make it. As he finally reaches the counter, he hopes big, dumb blonde will do the same. 

“Can I get two flat whites in one cup and a bag of the Bella Donovan beans.” Bucky asks, really close to losing it. 

Big, dumb, and okay still hot, blonde at the register knits his eyebrows together, slight scowl on his face. “You want us to make you two separate flat whites and put it in one cup?”

Bucky doesn’t have enough alert brain cells to explain his request to this Ken doll magically come to life. Which is why only a simple, “yes” comes out of his mouth. 

“Should I be concerned about how much caffeine you’re taking in?” annoying as all fuck Ken doll replies. 

Bucky sighs. Of course he gets some health nut who feels the need to lecture people on the adverse effects of caffeine. 

“Look man, I’m wearing pajama pants with flying toasters on them, a stained “Where’s the Beef” shirt and mismatched socks. Do you really think I don’t need that level of caffeine in my bloodstream?”

Ken doll gives him a careful once over, eyes stopping briefly at Bucky’s chest. Bucky isn’t sure if that’s because of the aforementioned stain or because Ken doll is checking him out. Either way, Bucky really just needs those flat whites. Now. Ken doll nods and calls out the order to his annoyingly chipper co-worker. 

Bucky shoves $20 at Ken doll and moves off to the side, willing Chipper Skipper to hurry the fuck up. Ken doll looks like he wants to say something but Bucky’s murder face stops him. He turns his attention to the next person in line, Mr. Rogers smile firmly in place. Bucky stares down Chipper Skipper as he takes his sweet fucking time making the flat whites. Bucky barely keeps himself from vaulting over the counter and chugging every shot of espresso lined up on the machine. 

When Chipper Skipper finally hands over his flat whites and coffee beans, Bucky gulps down the drink without hesitation. Ken doll blinks once, then twice as he watches Bucky pack away the espresso like it’s water. He throws the cup in a nearby trash can, picks up his beans and is on his way out the door when he hears a “hey, wait!”. Ken doll is bounding towards him with the discarded cup in his hand. Bucky gives him an odd look, wondering why the fuck this guy is digging through trash. 

“You, uhm, forgot this,” Ken doll says, awkwardly handing over the cup.

“No I didn’t. There’s nothing in it anymore, so it’s now trash,” Bucky responds as he pushes the cup back at Ken doll. 

A rather endearing blush creeps up Ken doll’s neck. “There’s something uhm… I mean, I may have written my number on the side of it.” 

The caffeine has not jump started Bucky’s brain, so he only manages a strangled “guh” noise. Ken doll immediately deflates, reminding Bucky of a sad puppy. 

“Oh, I’m sorry if that was, uhm, I mean if you don’t… swing that way. I just thought you were cute.”

Bucky chokes on absolutely nothing because he fails as a human being in the mornings. “You clearly have low standards, pal.” 

Ken doll arches his eyebrow, confidence slowly coming back to his face. “I happen to find flying toasters hot.” 

Through the fog of his as-yet-caffeinated brain, Bucky realizes Ken doll is actually a bit of a punk. Which is completely Bucky’s jam. Hell, it’s his jam, his scones, his muffins and his entire brunch menu. 

“How do you feel about stained shirts with bad 80s ad lines?” he asks, a smirk playing across his face. 

“Let me buy you dinner sometime and I’ll tell you all about it,” Ken doll counters. 

Bucky takes the coffee cup from Ken doll’s hand and reads the handwriting on the side. In neat script are the words, _How about you give me a call after you’ve finished whatever murder spree you’re obviously plotting. Steve - (718) 469-8123._ Bucky can’t help the boisterous laugh that escapes him. Steve. He can work with that. 

“Once I’m finished hiding all the evidence, I’ll give you a call,” he says, giving Steve the closest thing to a sexy smile he can manage.

Steve starts walking backwards, throwing finger guns at Bucky. “You do that, Hot Charles Manson.”

Bucky snorts, shaking his head. “It’s Bucky, if you must know.”

“I like my name better,” Steve calls out before going back to his post at the register. 

Bucky smiles to himself, carefully putting the cup in his hoodie pocket and walking out. 

Maybe running out of coffee beans wasn’t such a bad thing after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr](https://brooklynbetty.tumblr.com/)! I promise I usually drink my coffee before attempting social media.


End file.
